A Brief History of the
Guild of Moon Magic
by Kssarh, apprentice to Guildmaster Tiv
I: A History
"With every dusky moonbeam and with e'ry revolution,
Magic is our signpost, our method Evolution."
-- Alicia Crowther, Magus.
Such were the words spoken as the Cult of Tezirah became the
sixth and
final signatory to the Lunar Accord, the historic document that
served
as the foundation for the Guild of Moon Magic as we know it
today.
But, such as our monuments (such as the recently-completed Great
Observatory) might suggest, our history was not always so
glorious. In
the early days of the Seven-Starred Empire, the College of War
Magic was
the sanctioned school for Imperial mages, and not without reason:
in
those dark days of pushing back the untamed wilderness and raw
chaos
outside our cities' walls, the need for strong steel and stronger
magic
had never been greater.
However, scholarship
fell by the wayside, and the "noble" arts of prophecy
and moonlight manipulation might have lapsed into faint memory
were it not for the brief reign of Emperor Ponthilas IV, a man
who surrounded himself with mystics and soothsayers both
counterfeit and genuine. It could be justifiably said that
Ponthilas himself was a raving paranoid, but his overwhelming
interest in the machinations of the future paved the way for
skilled mystics from many far-flung provinces to meet in his
court.
Thus was soon formed the Celestial Compact, a formal fraternity
of
astrologers who regularly gathered at the palace to share
information,
news affecting their craft, and to perfect the techniques of
magic that,
working seperately, they had made relatively little progress
upon.
When Ponthilas IV died in a most humiliating accident (after
ignoring the
advice of his counselors, to stay home that day, it should be
added), the
members of the Compact realized they were in danger of losing
their
foothold in Imperial society. The new emperor, Saranell II, was a
staunch skeptic and had already made it clear that astrologers
and "other purveyors of fantasy" would not be welcome
in his court.
The Compact's defense was to apply to the Board of Wizardry for
recognized
status as a formal College of Magic, just like the war-mages.
While their
skills were impressive, the Board ruled that their focus was too
narrow,
and not enough use to the government to justify spending the
money it
would take to institute them.
Compact Chairman Jares
Braun had an idea: there were numerous cultures and peoples who
had been 'united'-- willingly or otherwise-- under the Empire's
banner, and many of them had indigenous systems of magic that
were likewise ignored by the establishment.
Perhaps by working together, their disparate paths could find
strength
in unity.
Braun selected a number of magical guilds and orders that seemed
close
to the Compact in philosophy or style. Of the twenty sects
invited,
five came to the capital to meet with the Compact in what became
known
as the First Magical Congress. After three days of sharing lore,
spells and history, Braun gave his historic address to the
assembly.
"You fear ecclecticism, assimilation, loss of your cultural
identity.
I know your fears, for they are mine as well. But what will your
stoicism
gain you if your wisdom is lost upon your death? If there are no
libraries to hold your research, no guildhalls to teach your
magic? If
unity is the price of survival, then I say, let us unite! For
together,
we will create triumphs of the magical arts undreampt of."
-- Jares Braun
With reservation, the emissaries agreed that a merger would
benefit them
all far more than it would cost. And if, in the long run, a sect
or two
happened to splinter off with their newfound prominance and
wealth, so
much the better...
Simply finding a name for this coalition took a week of nonstop
debate;
seeking a compromise, one young apprentice of the Celestial
Compact
observed that, despite their differences, all of the attending
mages
recognized the power of Elanthia's moons in one sense or another.
Thus,
the Guild of Moon Mages was born.
Braun was elected Guildmaster Prime for his efforts, and he
quickly led
a delegation back to the Board of Wizardry. Formally teaching an
ecclectic mixture of astronomy, astrology and magic learned from
their
(now six times larger) membership-- while making allowances for
those who
wished to focus on a specific traditional path in the manner of
the Guild's
founders-- the representatives managed to convince the Empire
that they
were, at last, worthy of formal recognition.
As such, the Guild was granted funding to construct a network of
guildhalls
and libraries across the land, a system that survived through the
fall
of the Empire and to the present day. Today, benefiting from a
rich
legacy of magic and lore, the still-united Guild is a political
and social
power in its own right. Still studying, researching and expanding
as
they have always done, there can be little doubt that the Moon
Mages will
continue to enjoy the fruits of prosperity well into the future.
II: The Original Sects
The core membership that became the Guild of Moon Magic came from
six
diverse yet similarly-aligned sects. They are listed here by the
order in
which they signed the Lunar Accord:
Under Braun, the Celestial Compact formed the idea for the Guild
and led
the unification process. Scholars without peer and keen students
of the
movement of the heavens, they employ astrology and magic to see
the far
future as if it were yesterday. It is this author's pride to
directly
descend from this near-perfect lineage, without whom all would
have been
lost.
Nomads of the Arid Steppe, the Skindancers were potent shamans
who
employed spirit invocation, myth and trances born of both ecstasy
and
pain to enter the netherworld and touch the future. They were
well-known
for developing the use of enchanted bones-- often stripped from
the
body of a fallen enemy-- to aid in divination.
Of the Prophets of G'nar-Peth, little can be said: the
purple-robed mages
came from what they called "Master G'nar-Peth's garden of
paradise", the
same hellish volcanic wasteland known to the rest of Elanthia as
the
Blasted Plains. Masters of perception and inner vision, it is
said that
no illusion could fool their minds-- nor their eyes, which were
gouged
out and the empty sockets hidden behind silken blindfolds.
While surely mad, these walking contradictions were also adepts
of fierce
power, and 'saw' the future in the reflections of their
strangely-engraved
sandstone bowls. While the original Prophets vanished long ago,
back into
the wastes, some of the bowls remain as their legacy: but, it is
written,
spending too much time in contemplation of their serpentine
heiroglyphs
can be dangerous to the mind and soul.
The followers of Fortune's Path came from all across Elanthia,
and seemed
as surprised to meet each other as they were to meet the other
sects.
These were the soothsayers, the fortunetellers and sometimes the
tricksters
of roving gypsy tribes, as comfortable with a high-stakes game of
chance
as they were with a cantrip or wand. Even their preferred form of
divination, a deck of Tokka cards, originated as a gambling game.
Not surprisingly, the arrival of these mages coincided with a
number of extremely strange events; one happened right after
their temporary
spokeswoman stepped outside for some air, and was suddenly
besieged by
literally hundreds of freelance messengers, all of whom insisted
that
they had been looking for her for decades...
The Monks of the Crystal Hand said little, letting their deeds
carry the
message. A band of ascetic warriors from the far west, these
meditative
souls had honed their mysticism to a razor's edge, able to
conceal their
movements in a cloak of shadows at will and disarm a foe with a
single
thought. They pledged themselves to build the Guild as they did
all
things: with purity, honor, and deadly efficiency, all attuned
with the
orbit of the moons.
In the old days before the Empire condemned the practice of
sorcery (and
that foul art, thankfully, passed into legend), a dark magus
named
Tezirah combined her spells with the skills of a mystic. She
nurtured a
cult of personality, which endured after her execution (under the
reign of
Empress Demin I) and became the Progeny of Tezirah.
Though stripped of the foul magics their mistress taught, the
Progeny
turned mysticism to their own ends, specializing in dark
prophesies and
illusion. Their favored tool was the crystal Tezirah's Mirror, a
dangerous skrying device invented by the sorceress long ago.
As a historical aside,
the day of Tezirah's death by hanging was the first
time that seers recorded visions of a hideous bat-winged skull
that
soared from their subconscious and paralyzed them with
unspeakable agony.
Some still believe that this dread image, seen many times since,
is
actually the spirit of Tezirah herself. Her last attempt at a
spell of
vengeance, the story goes, trapped her soul on the Probability
Plane,
which all prophets touch to foresee the future. She now flies
endlessly
across the chaotic abyss, trying to force her way back into our
world
through the "doorway" that opens for just a
split-second during any
mage's prediction.
While this is generally seen as a bogey-tale to frighten
apprentices
("Study well, or Tezirah will eat your soul!"), this
author feels that
there is enough established precident in magical circles to
consider
this tale not only cautionary, but all too possible.